


driving with the brakes on

by gracieminabox



Series: horizons universe [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Explicit Sexual Content, Homophobia, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 00:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9210944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracieminabox/pseuds/gracieminabox
Summary: Turns out, falling in love is the easy part. McKirk.





	

_March_

 

Bones did not like March twenty-third.

Jim learned this the second March twenty-third that he and Bones knew one another. The first March twenty-third, Bones had finagled himself an extra duty shift at the clinic to keep busy, and Jim had been most of the way asleep by the time Bones stumbled into their flat and fell, face down and fully clothed, atop his mattress. Jim figured it’d been a rough night of treating dumbass cadets who wouldn’t know an anti-STI hypo if it bit them in the ass and let him be.

The second year, March twenty-third fell on a Monday. For both of them, Mondays meant a full day of class, followed by an evening off of being two lazy bastards, gorging themselves on Chinese food, beer, and conversation. Jim had no reason to believe that this Monday would be any different.

But when Jim woke up at 0730 and saw Bones’ bed untouched from last night in the far corner of the flat, his instinct told him something was wrong. And when he padded out to the common area to see Bones lying supine on the couch, one hand over his forehead, the other curled around a bottle of scotch on the floor (which was clearly a few swigs shy of full), his instinct was confirmed.

“Mornin’, Bones,” he said mildly. “Rough night?”

Bones was silent for a moment, giving no acknowledgement that he even knew Jim was there. His eyes were red-rimmed and Jim had the distinct, sinking feeling that it wasn’t alcohol-related. “Go to class, Jim,” Bones croaked.

“What, aren’t you going?” Bones shook his head. “Why? What the hell’s wrong?”

Bones uncapped the bottle and threw back a sip. “Just…just leave it, Jim. Please.”

Jim blinked. He didn’t want to leave it. He didn’t want to leave Bones. He wanted to know why Bones was skipping class and getting drunk at seven-thirty in the morning, and he wanted to know _now_ ; but he also knew Bones, and he knew that no answers would be forthcoming, no matter how hard he tried.

Jim didn’t believe in no-win scenarios. He did, however, believe that sometimes you had to play an unsavory game in order to win. An unsavory game like going to class and coming home to an even drunker Bones who hopefully had not yet succumbed to alcohol poisoning and hoping the booze loosened his tongue.

(After all, a solid ninety percent of what Jim knew about Bones had been the result of confessions fueled by alcohol.)

“You promise you’re not gonna drink yourself to death while I’m in Hand-to-Hand?”

“No guarantees,” Bones grunted, before looking over to Jim’s face and softening just slightly. “But I’ll try.”

Jim reluctantly nodded and moved to get ready. He left the apartment twenty minutes later, leaving Bones in exactly the spot he found him in this morning. “Comm if you need anything. Food, booze, company, someone to tell what the hell’s going on…just comm, okay?”

Bones stared at the ceiling, but nodded. “Go to class, Jim.”

***

Jim came home twelve hours later to find Bones in the exact same spot he’d left him in that morning, but sitting up this time, head in his hands. The bottle of scotch he’d been nursing this morning was still there, pretty close to empty.

“Oh, thank God, you’re alive,” Jim said dryly. Bones jumped, looking up to meet Jim’s eyes. He looked like hell.

“You’re home,” Bones murmured.

“Christ,” Jim muttered, dropping his PADDs and gear and heading over to the couch, sitting next to his best friend, wrapping an arm around him, threading his fingers into his hair in a manner decidedly unfitting platonic friends. Jim waited for Bones to squirm away, the way he tended to do with an abundance of physical contact. He didn’t. “You ready to tell me what’s wrong?”

Bones shook his head, then nuzzled - _fucking nuzzled_ \- into Jim’s neck. “Y’smell good. ‘zat my soap?”

Jim took a deep breath and tried to steady the squirmy feeling in his chest. “Uh, yeah. I ran out yesterday. Sorry.”

“’s all right, darlin’. Wha’s mine s’yours.”

_Darlin’?_

“Jim,” Bones breathed into Jim’s shoulder. “Jim, Jim, Jim.”

“Yeah, Bones,” Jim said, rubbing Bones’ back a little. “I’m here.”

“‘m sleepy,” Bones mumbled. His lips felt pouty against Jim’s neck and it made Jim shudder pleasantly.

“Why don’t you go to bed then?”

“Mmkay.”

Bones let Jim hoist him up onto his feet from the couch and over to the bed on his side of the room, still neatly made. Jim kept one arm around Bones while he turned down the covers with the other, then poured Bones into bed, smiling a little when the furrow between his brows relaxed and he gripped the spare pillow like a teddy bear.

“Night, pal,” Jim murmured, brushing a lock of dark hair out of Bones’ eyes. Jim stood and stared for a moment, struck stupid by the depths of his attraction to the man he just put to bed. A day and a half worth of stubble peppered Bones’ cheeks and jawline, and Jim’s lips suddenly tingled with the burning desire to feel that prickle against them. _Why are you so beautiful, Bones?_

Jim was a little startled when Bones’ fingers closed on his wrist and squeezed tight. “Don’ leave me, Jim. Never leave me. Please.”

Jim frowned, but patted Bones’ grip on his wrist. “I’m right here, man. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Bones mumbled. He was quiet for a few moments, and Jim thought maybe he’d fallen asleep, when Bones spoke again, a little slurry, sleepy and drunk, but with so much _heart_ behind his words.

“Love you, Jim. So in love with you. Love you so fuckin’ much sometimes I can’t breathe. Jus’ donwanna lose you.”

And in that moment Jim’s heart stopped and all the words that had been coiled at the base of his tongue for more than a year threatened to unravel and spill out and he wanted to take this moment, this precious and perfect moment, and wrap it in silk and bury it in his chest, right in the chambers of his heart, so with every beat another one of those sweet mumbled words pushed itself through his veins.

He’d never be able to tell you how he spent the rest of that night, but it sure as hell wasn’t sleeping.

***

Before he left for class on Tuesday, Jim set three things on Bones’ nightstand: a full glass of orange juice, a painkiller hypo he’d nicked from Bones’ medkit, and a handwritten note: 

_Dinner tonight. Craddock’s. 7:30. On me. Be there. - jtk_

***

In a surreal role reversal, Jim got to Craddock’s ten minutes early and Bones ten minutes late. Jim looked up from the menu to see Bones walking up to the table, dress shirt untucked, hair still a little damp - Jim assumed he’d gone back to the apartment to change and grab a shower. And the thought of Bones in the shower needed to be shut off _immediately._ He was in public, after all.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bones groused, running a hand through his hair, shooting Jim a grateful expression when he saw the scotch and soda sitting untouched at his place. “Last class ran long, then Boyce cornered me wanting to talk about some kinda multiple pregnancy…mixed-species…something, I can’t remember. Anyway.” Bones took a sip of his drink, then looked across at Jim. “Craddock’s? What’s the occasion?”

Jim had just stared unblinkingly at Bones as he spoke and was a little jarred to have to be the one doing the talking. “Um,” he began, “no…no occasion. Just figured you could use a good meal. You, ah, didn’t eat much yesterday.” Jim figured that Bones probably hadn’t eaten at all yesterday, but decided not to mention it.

“Yeah,” Bones said, averting his gaze. “Yesterday was…well.” He swirled his drink in his glass. “Not a good day for me. Sorry you had to see me like that, kid.”

“I’m not,” Jim blurted out before he could think of the consequences. Bones looked up at him sharply before Jim continued. “You don’t remember much of yesterday, do you?”

“Had my head buried in a bottle, so no, can’t say as I do. Why?”

The waiter - who really only had a job to do and had no idea what he was interrupting - chose exactly that moment to appear and take their orders. Jim used the time it took Bones to say what he wanted to catalog how many ways he could kill this poor sap in an apron with just what was on the table.

After Bones ordered his salmon and Jim his steak and the waiter with a target on his back had mercifully left them, Bones turned back to Jim. “Sorry. What were we talking about?”

“Yesterday.”

Bones sighed. “Right. Wish I hadn’t asked. What dumbass thing did I do?”

Jim looked across at Bones and had a sudden and totally unexpected attack of shyness. “Nothing,” he said softly, swallowing back his heart. “No, I was just…worried about you, that’s all.”

Bones nodded. “Well, thanks, Jim. I’m fine,” he lied.

Bones spoke smoothly about his conversation with Boyce - which apparently had something to do with a study on placental variations in non-human races - his anxiety over his xenovirology lab practical, and the idiots he’d recently encountered at the clinic. Jim nodded and smiled and interjected when he thought he was supposed to, but stayed mostly quiet, looking at Bones, mind spinning.

A fork clattered to the plate across the table and Jim started. “All right,” Bones said, “what the hell’s going on with you? You might as well just tell me. What did I do last night?”

“Bones - ”

“Did I streak across the quad? Pee in your coffee? Threaten my xenovirology professor with bodily harm? Because that’s something I’d do sober, honestly. Really, whatever it is, can you just let it go and be _normal regular Jim?_ ”

Jim blinked, then nodded, cut off a piece of his steak, and chewed thoroughly.

“Thank you,” Bones intoned, returning to his own plate.

Jim casually swirled his beer in its glass, then spoke. “Can I ask you a question?”

Because he was not Jim, Bones did not say “You just did,” instead replying, “Go for it.”

“When were you actually planning on telling me you were in love with me?”

Bones choked on a piece of asparagus. Jim calmly sipped his beer as his dining companion coughed and sputtered.

“I…you… _goddammit Jim_ …no…but…I didn’t… _fucking hell_ …I need water…can I get some water over here?” Bones downed the entire glass in one go, then looked at Jim, gasping for breath. _“What the unholy fuck, Jim?”_

Jim sighed, putting his elbows on the table and pinching the bridge of his nose. “ _That’s_ what you did last night,” he mumbled.

“Oh sweet baby Jesus, I didn’t,” Bones said faintly.

“You did,” Jim said, meeting Bones’ eyes over the table. There was a long, uncomfortable pause, in which Jim looked at Bones with raised eyebrows and an almost imperceptible smile.

“Never,” Bones finally said, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple. “I was never gonna tell you, because I was just gonna wait for it to go away.”

“Why would you want it to go away?” Jim asked gently.

“Because you’re my _best goddamn friend_ , that’s why, and I’m _not_ going to fuck that up!” Bones hissed. Jim laughed lightly, his shoulders shaking a little. “What are you laughing at?” Bones asked harshly.

“Oh, man,” Jim said, looking to the side, then back at Bones. “You told me you love me. I responded by asking you to dinner. At Craddock’s. Bones, this is _clearly_ a date.”

Bones stared at Jim for a few seconds, then buried his head in his hands. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand? You’re making this way harder than it needs to be, Bones. You love me. We’ve established that. And,” Jim swallowed and took a deep breath, “and I love you.”

Bones shook his head. “Jim, don’t say things you don’t mean just because you - ”

“I hacked the system and made damn sure I was rooming with you before I’d even washed your vomit out of my shoes. Of course I love you.”

Bones shook his head again and made eye contact with Jim, his eyes sad and downturned. “You don’t want me, Jim. I got so many goddamn issues…”

“Contrary to popular proclamation, I’m not an infant. I’m an adult and I can decide what I want. What else you got?”

“I’m a shitty partner. Ask Jocelyn. She’ll testify to it. She did, in fact.”

“And I’ve heard the other side of that coin and know that Jocelyn’s hardly one to be throwing stones.”

Bones swallowed, and Jim could swear his eyes looked a little glassy. “I can’t do casual, Jim. Never again.”

“Who said anything about casual?” Jim asked. “Just because I’m not the poster boy for monogamy doesn’t mean I’m not capable of the practice. You know that. You’ve seen me have steady partners before.” Jim leaned in across the table, lowering his voice. “You’re confusing me, Bones. I want you, okay? I want you _badly_. Do you want me or don’t you?”

Bones’ voice was tight and strained. “What I want scares the shit out of me, Jim.”

“Understood. Tell me anyway. What do you want?”

“You.”

“You want me?”

“Yes.”

“You want a relationship with me?”

“Yes.” Bones’ eyes were huge and almost neon green in the low light of the restaurant. “Jim…please.”

Jim signaled the waiter. “Check please.”

***

Jim barely had time to mumble out the “lights, fifty percent” command before pinning Bones to the wall next to the door and crushing their lips together. Jim’s hands traveled from the collar of Bones’ dress shirt up his chest to his neck and liberally stubbled chin, where he cupped his face in place and held it to his mouth. Beneath the kiss, Jim could feel his own lips curling into an irresistible smile that was equal parts tender and wicked. _Goddamn, I want this. I want him._

Without breaking the kiss, Jim steered their bodies around, in search of the nearest horizontal flat surface - which turned out to be Bones’ bed - onto which they collapsed in an unelegant heap. Bones landed on his back, with Jim more or less on top of him, on his knees, still cupping Bones’ face, while Bones’ hands moved from the small of Jim’s back to the duvet, where he braced, grounding himself. Bones tasted warm, spicy, like the scotch and soda he’d had with dinner but somehow richer, and the combination of his taste, his citrusy smell, the feel of his stubble beneath Jim’s palms, and the knowledge that _this is Bones this is Bones holy shit this is Bones_ was enough to make Jim’s mind whir. The feel of a twitch from between Bones’ legs was enough to make all the blood in Jim’s body rush south.

He couldn’t stop his hands from wandering, because he just wanted to touch so, so badly. Over, down the gentle slope of broad shoulders, all the way to long-fingered, fine-boned hands, lacing their fingers together for a brief moment; then back up again, down a solid, warm, surprisingly sensitive chest (a little _“Jim”_ escaping from between their lips as a heavy gasp), lower, grazing a tender belly, lower, over sharp hipbones, lower, skirting the edges of tented gabardine…

Jim’s lips began to wander now, too, moving to Bones’ neck, his clavicle, fingers deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt and granting him access to his chest. “Fuck, Jim, _fuck_ ,” Bones gasped, and Jim smiled into his skin again; he sounded breathless, needy. _Perfect._ Opening Bones’ shirt, Jim traced first his fingers, then his tongue over Bones’ right nipple, savoring Bones’ gasp, the squirm of his hips. Jim hadn’t yet palmed Bones’ cock, no matter how much he wanted to, but it was plain to see through his trousers that he was completely erect. Jim, with a not-insignificant and delicious ache of his own below the belt, could relate.

“Jim, Jim, Jim,” Bones’ voice was breathy and quick, and Jim took the opportunity to kiss his way across to Bones’ left nipple, where he latched on - and the sensation from under Bones’ skin gave Jim his first moment’s pause of their escapade.

_Goddamn, his heart is **pounding.** That doesn’t sound…no…_

Looking up at Bones’ face, Jim started. His eyes were squeezed shut, his breathing coming in short, uneven gasps, white-knuckling the bedspread. It sounded for all the world like pleasure, but damn, it _looked_ like…

_“What I want scares the shit out of me, Jim.”_

Fear.

_Oh God, he’s afraid._

“Bones?” Something hot and slimy coiled in Jim’s gut as he saw the tremor in Bones’ famously steady hands, something that made him feel like the absolute worst sort of person. _Jesus Christ, he’s terrified, and it’s because of me, it’s my fault._ Jim shifted to Bones’ side, scooting up to eye-level with him, and ran a thumb along his tightly-clenched knuckles. “Bones. Hey. Look at me, please.”

Bones’ eyes snapped open. His pupils were blown, the little hazelish-green ring looking far more green than hazel at that moment.

“I’m sorry,” Jim whispered, trying to massage the tension out of Bones’ hand still clinging to the scratchy Starfleet-issue duvet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…fuck, Bones, that was too much, wasn’t it?”

Bones’ breathing was starting to steady, but his voice still sounded like he had a throat full of sand. “Just… _fast_ , Jim.”

“Too fast. Fuck, Bones, I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry.” Jim could’ve smacked himself. He held no shame about being as sexually liberal as he was, willing to try pretty much anything once as long as it was safe and sane; but his one non-negotiable prerequisite was consent. And here, with Bones, where it had never mattered more… _now_ he chose to think with his dick. The guilt was nearly overwhelming.

Bones swallowed a mouthful of nothing, his saliva long having disappeared. “’s all right, Jim. ’s okay. I’m okay. Just…just too fast.”

“Look, if you don’t want to do this with me anymore, I’ll understand. I mean, I’ll kick my own ass for a while, but honestly, I’m probably gonna do that anyway.”

“No!” Bones interjected. “No, no. Look, Jim, I said…I said I wanted this and I meant it. You just gotta give me some more time, all right? I’m not like you; I can’t just…jump right into it.” Bones’ face flushed vaguely pink and he met Jim’s eyes furtively before looking away. “Look, I haven’t really been with anybody since the divorce, okay? And I didn’t exactly have an extensive scorecard before then, either.”

Jim nodded. “You need to move more slowly. I can do that. That’s completely fine.” He tentatively moved his hand up and brushed a lock of dark hair off Bones’ perpetually-furrowed brow in what he hoped would be seen as a tender, affectionate gesture. “Are you okay? You…you kinda scared me there for a second.”

Sighing, Bones wrapped an arm around Jim, tugging him in close enough that Jim’s head was pillowed on Bones’ chest. “I’m okay. Didn’t mean to freak you out.” A self-depricating chuckle, then, “Didn’t mean to freak out at all, really.”

Jim stared into space for a second as a new thought occurred to him. “Hey…have you…shit, all right, no less blunt way to say it: have you had sex with a man before?”

Bones stilled a little under Jim’s head, then let out a breathy kind of laugh. “Oh, I see. You think I panicked because I’m some blushing virgin, that it?”

Jim snorted. “ _No,_ you ass. I just…” Jim trailed off, making a vague gesture with his hand.

Bones was quiet for a couple of heartbeats before he simply said, “I’ve done some stuff with men.”

 _Some stuff_ was troublingly vague, but Jim wisely chose not to pry at that moment.

***

_April_

 

Over the weeks that followed, Jim Kirk came to one absolute conclusion about the nature of the universe, and that was that kissing Bones was the most precious, fragile, golden feeling that existed. Jim savored those kisses, from the way Bones’ lips felt to his warm, heady smell to his heavenly taste. It made him want to kiss everywhere, taste everywhere, to crawl into Bones and never find his way out again.

But he’d promised slow, because that’s what Bones needed, and slow is what Bones would get.

Jim cupped Bones’ jaw, feeling the light prickle against his fingertips, and couldn’t help imagining what that prickle might feel like against other, more tender areas of his anatomy. _Later, Kirk. Focus._ He smoothed his hands down Bones’ chest, reveling in the little sigh of pleasure that Bones gave as Jim grazed his nipples.

“You like that?” Jim mumbled into Bones’ mouth, smiling when Bones nodded. “Good,” Jim said again, kissing Bones slow and deep. “Wanna know exactly what you like. Wanna know how you like to be touched. How to get you off. What you sound like when you come.”

“Jesus, Jim,” Bones gasped, and Jim looked up, hoping that was an expression of pleasure. It seemed to be.

“Where else can I touch you, Bones?” Jim murmured, kissing his Adam’s apple. His fingers moved to Bones’ abdomen, fingertips drawing lazy circles around his navel. “How about here?”

 _“Fuck,”_ Bones breathed, threading his fingers into Jim’s hair and tugging gently.

Jim made a delighted noise, following his fingers with his lips, down the center of Bones’ chest to his belly. “You’re so sensitive. So responsive. I love it.”

“Such a - _mmmph Jesus_ \- such a mouthy brat,” Bones panted. “Should’ve known…you wouldn’t shut up…even now…”

Jim smiled, kissing Bones’ navel soundly. “I think you like it when I won’t shut up.”

“Infant,” Bones breathed.

“Curmudgeon,” Jim shot back, tracing a path with his fingers over to the crest of Bones’ hipbone. “Here?”

Bones visibly swallowed and nodded. There was a ghost of anxiety in his posture. Jim didn’t stop, but took note of the change.

Jim hummed into the skin of Bones’ belly, stroking four fingers slowly back and forth, back and forth over his hip, in broader strokes each time, so that he was closer to touching his ass or his cock on alternating strokes.

Bones’ breathing shallowed at the sensation. “Jim…” he gasped.

“It’s all right, Bones,” Jim murmured, kissing Bones’ waist as he trailed his fingers over the top of the sensitive crease of where Bones’ leg met his hip. “It’s all right. It’s just me.”

When Jim’s fingers grazed the thatch of dark pubic hair, Bones stiffened. _“Jim,”_ he said warningly.

Jim heeded the tone of voice. He didn’t move his hand from Bones’ hip, but he did still it, and he did push himself up and move up to eye level with Bones, so he could look at his partner face to face.

“Hey,” Jim said gently, propping his head up on one arm. “You okay?”

Bones closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Yeah, Jim, I’m okay.”

“What happened?”

Bones let out the breath he’d been holding. “Dunno,” he groused unhelpfully. “Just…felt m’self starting to freak out.”

“Nervous or scared?”

Bones frowned. “What?”

“Were you starting to freak out because you were nervous, or because you were scared?”

Bones blinked. “I’m not sure I know the difference, really.”

“Okay. Well, the way I see it, ‘nervous’ is worrying about what’s going to happen, not being sure of your next steps. ‘Scared’ is different; it’s about wanting to avoid something you see as a threat.” Jim moved his hand up Bones’ side, gently massaging his flank. “I’m _nervous_ about being in charge of five hundred people when I make captain. I’m _scared_ of losing you. Make sense?”

Bones nodded. “Yeah, I get it, I just don’t see how the distinction applies to…this.”

Jim maintained steady eye contact, his hand still rubbing steadily and firmly along Bones’ side. “Nervous is something we can push past in the moment. I can help you through that. Scared is something where we should stop what we’re doing.” Jim paused, letting the idea sink in. “So, what do you think? Nervous or scared?”

Bones was quiet for a moment. “Nervous, I think.”

Jim nodded. “Nervous. Okay. I can work with that.” He shifted position, lying on his side next to Bones, putting a hand on his chest. He could feel Bones’ heart pounding, but not nearly at the panicky clip of the other night. “What made you nervous?”

Bones flushed pink and turned away from Jim’s face. “I don’t know.” His eyes were downcast, almost like he _did_ know what made him nervous but didn’t want to admit it to Jim.

“Okay,” Jim said, not pushing it. “Okay, then what can I do to make this more comfortable for you?”

Bones looked _unbelievably_ vulnerable right now, and it occurred to Jim that he found that vulnerability so attractive, so very endearing, that it almost hurt.

“Close the blinds.”

Jim blinked a few times. “I, um. What?”

Bones mumbled the words rapid fire, flushing an even deeper pink. “That’s what’d make me…more comfortable,” he winced. “Close the blinds.”

Their apartment was on the eleventh floor. Unless someone commandeered a shuttle for the explicit purpose of spying on them or a particularly voyeuristic group of pigeons decided to make camp outside their window, Jim and Bones were in little danger of being spied on. Plus, with the lights off, the ambient light from outside was the only source of light in the room; closing the blinds would make it harder to see Bones and his beautiful face.

 _But it’ll make this easier for him,_ Jim thought.

So Jim hopped off the bed, padded over to the window, and shuttered the blinds, leaving them in comparative darkness, only banging his toe once on the leg of the coffee table as he made his way back to Bones. He curled up next to him, resting his hand back on Bones’ side. “This better?”

Jim could feel as Bones’ tension started to bleed away under his touch, and he breathed a soft sigh. “Thanks, darlin’.”

Jim scooted closer, kissing Bones gently. “Anytime.”

***

_May_

 

Jim woke up on an overly sunny spring morning bleary-eyed and confused. He was alone, and he was quite sure he’d fallen asleep last night with an ample armful of boyfriend, and damned if the very _thought_ of that didn’t make him grin like a moron.

He’d made Bones come with a shout last night, lips firmly wrapped around the root of his cock, fingertip pressed into the skin of his perineum. Bones had unequivocally said he wasn’t ready to be on the giving end of blowjobs, but Jim had coaxed, wheedled, and teased until Bones was not only agreeing but _begging_ to be on the receiving end. And Jim delightedly obliged.

He’d never seen Bones come before. It was as unbearably erotic as Jim could’ve possibly imagined, and that he, Jim, was the cause of that orgasm had him feeling stupidly smug.

Also achy. Thinking about last night while already afflicted with a moderate case of morning wood was not one of his brighter ideas.

_Where the hell is he, anyway?_

Wiping the sleep from his eyes and running a hand through his bird’s nest of a head of hair, Jim padded into the common room, where Bones sat with his back to Jim, a cup of coffee between his palms, staring at the vidscreen in front of him.

Jim put a hand on the back of Bones’ neck and bent down to kiss the top of his head. “Mornin’. What’s up?”

Bones looked up at Jim, oddly expressionless, then tilted the screen so Jim could see the image he was looking at.

“My baby sister’s havin’ a baby,” Bones said, pointing to the heavyset, dark-haired woman with a wide smile. “She’s due in June. Wants me to meet the little tyke when he gets here.”

“Aww, Uncle Bones,” Jim teased.

“Jim,” Bones said, and now Jim heard the slightest edge of tension, “she wants me to come down to Georgia.”

Jim cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out why this would be a problem, when he hit on something. “You worried about Jocelyn?”

Bones rolled his eyes. “Nah, Joss'd never even know I was there. I’d ask her to give me some time with Jo, if I didn’t know she’d laugh in my face.” Bones sighed, then paused for a moment, composing his thoughts. “Maggie’s gonna have the baby in Atlanta proper, but then she’s gonna go home to Marietta for a couple months.” Bones looked at Jim significantly. “She’s gonna be with my mom.”

Jim nodded slowly, not really getting it. In retrospect, Bones had never mentioned his mother except in passing - good, bad, or indifferent. Jim had no idea what their relationship was like. “Can I assume you and she don’t get along?”

Bones actually laughed at that, a full, but oddly sad laugh. “Let’s just say we didn’t leave things on the best terms.”

“Oh.” Jim knew about Bones’ dad - the illness that came on fast and left a proud man pleading for mercy, Bones sacrificing everything, including his marriage, to try to find a cure, and finally, a son granting his father the mercy he begged for, hearing his father’s last “thank you, son” and calling his time of death one minute later. It wasn’t a far stretch to assume that Bones’ mother had not been privy to this arrangement and had taken her emotions about it out on her son. Jim half-sat on the desk, next to the terminal but facing Bones. “Do you want to go? To see the baby, I mean?”

Bones smiled a little, then nodded slowly. “Mag and I were always pretty close. She’s actually Jo’s godmother, assuming Joss didn’t have the paperwork changed behind our backs. Plus, I’ve never been an uncle before. It’d be pretty neat.” Bones sighed. “But damn…bein’ in that house again…” He shook his head.

Jim took Bones’ hand, running his thumb along the knuckles. “Would it be easier if you had company?”

Bones looked up sharply. “What do you - oh, no. _No,_ Jim. Just…Jesus.”

Jim was hurt. He tried not to show it, but by the look on Bones’ face, he could tell he failed miserably. “Why not? I’d love to see where you grew up. You’ve got way more roots than I do. I like history; I’d like to see it. Plus, new baby? Who could pass that up?” Jim smiled softly and squeezed Bones’ hand. “And it sounds like you could use some support down there.”

Bones seemed to be weighing that statement. “I could,” he said, almost too low to hear. “I really could.” Bones looked back up to Jim, his eyes softening. “You sure about this, Jim?”

“Course I am.”

“It’s not gonna be easy.”

“If I was looking for easy, I’d have stayed in Iowa.”

Bones tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I apologize now for anything that happens when we go down there.”

Jim smiled, leaning in to kiss Bones. “Noted.”

***

It was ridiculous, really, trying to fit two grown men onto an Academy-issue mattress of nonstandard sizing that fell somewhere between twin and double. What should’ve been romantic often ended with an unintentional knee to the kidneys or waking up with a mouthful of the other person’s hair. Yet they tried - not every night, but many nights.

Jim was learning the language of Bones’ body, and as much as it turned him on, it was a surprisingly humbling experience, too. He celebrated every little noise, every sigh, every glorious brush of his lips. Bones was surprisingly shy about letting too much pleasure show on his face, which Jim both found endearing and tried to tease right out of him. He was starting to incorporate into his personal canon exactly how Bones liked to be touched, where and when and what happened when, learning it like a sacred text.

He’d always put a premium on knowing what his partners liked in bed, but Jim had never felt so committed to making every single experience better than the last, and the intensity scared and delighted him.

One of the things Jim had learned was that Bones, when anxious, really, _really_ needed physical contact. Honestly, Jim had no idea how his boyfriend had survived all the anxiety-filled moments he’d had since his divorce, when he didn’t have the touch of another person on which he could rely. And tonight, he was anxious about that letter from his sister and this damn upcoming trip to Georgia. And it was that anxiety that found Jim and Bones squished together in Jim’s too-small-for-two-grown-men bed, Jim spooned close behind Bones, one hand on his chest, the other on his abdomen. They breathed together, Jim tracing nonsense patterns with his fingertips.

“It’ll be okay,” Jim murmured comfortingly.

“You didn’t see Momma the last time I saw her,” Bones said softly, somewhat sadly. “It was…fuck, Jim, it was terrible.”

Jim kissed Bones’ shoulder. “You wanna talk about it?”

Bones shook his head. “No. Too comfortable right now to bring all that mess in here.”

Jim hummed contentedly. The curve of Bones’ ass was tucked neatly into Jim’s crotch, and Jim couldn’t have kept his cock from twitching in giddy response to the warmth and pressure. _God, I want you._

“Seems you’re pretty comfortable back there, too, darlin’,” Bones said lowly. Jim could hear the smile in his voice, even though the low light meant he couldn’t see it.

“Wanna touch you, Bones,” Jim said softly. “Please. Wanna let go with you.”

With some effort, Bones rolled over to face Jim. His eyes were hooded and soft, his mouth open and slightly pouty, looking _goddamn fucking delicious want you Bones need you._ Bones took Jim’s hand, which still rested on his belly, and steered it downwards, letting it disappear beneath the waistband of his boxers.

“Fuck, Jim,” Bones breathed. Thrills rippled down Jim’s spine as he wrapped his hand around Bones’ cock, feeling it heavy and hard in his palm. He’d taken a brief, pained inventory last night and decided that Bones’ cock was absolutely goddamn perfect. Jim’s was a smidge longer, but Bones’ was notably thicker, and currently weeping precome and weakening Jim’s fucking knees.

And now Bones, in some wild fit of boldness, had slipped _his_ hand into _Jim’s_ pants, and Jim could no longer think rational thoughts.

 _“Jesus fucking Christ,”_ Jim hissed as Bones used his middle finger and thumb to swirl gently on the swollen head of his cock, stroking along the rest of the shaft with his other fingers, encouraging bead after bead of precome to come to the surface. “Where the _fuck_ did you learn to do that?”

“I’ve got a cock too, you know,” Bones deadpanned before kissing Jim so firmly his teeth rattled.

Jim came quickly, covering Bones’ steady, _fucking unreal_ hand with come. Bones took a little longer, as, it seemed, he did in all things between the sheets. Jim didn’t mind a bit. More time to watch him fall apart and whisper filthy things into his ear before he let go in gentle spurts that painted his belly.

They looked at one another, catching their breaths, eyes clouded by the intensely sleepy post-orgasm haze.

“We’re gonna regret it if we don’t clean up after ourselves,” Bones mumbled.

“Yeah, you’re right, we should,” Jim answered. Neither of them moved.

“Love you, Jim. Really love you.”

“Love you more.”

***

_June_

 

Jim barely paid any attention to the drive through Marietta, consumed as he was by his boyfriend, who was practically vibrating with anxious energy in the driver’s seat.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Jim asked.

Bones shifted in his seat. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I really don’t know.”

“Remember what Maggie said,” Jim said. “She wants you there to meet your nephew, and she’s not gonna let your mom stand in the way of that. I’m sure your mom’ll understand that.”

Bones looked over to Jim and smiled sadly, linking their pinkies together on the gearshift and squeezing. “Wish I could believe that, darlin’.”

The McCoy family home, while large, was still pretty sedate for the area, especially compared to the sprawling, definitively Southern antebellum mansion Jim had conjured up in his head. It sat on a decent-sized plot of land, but there was a distinct absence of columns or wraparound porches. Bones pulled smoothly into the driveway, killed the engine, and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. He looked vaguely green.

“Jim,” he said without raising his head, “you might…you might want to stay in the car.”

“Why?” Jim asked, hurt.

“Because there’s liable to be a lotta angry words thrown around and I don’t want you to be on the receivin’ end.”

“And it’ll be better if _you’re_ on the receiving end?”

“I’m used to it.”

Jim paused. “Do you not want me to come in?”

Bones looked up at him, his eyes flashing a little. “No, I do,” he said urgently. “I really, really do. I just…you don’t deserve to get hurt.”

“Neither do you,” Jim insisted. “And I’m tougher than I look. We can handle this. C’mon.”

As they made their way out of the car and up the front steps, Bones pulled his arms in tight around his middle, and Jim instinctively put a hand on the small of his back. Bones jumped at the contact, but was too distracted to say anything. Jim noticed, though.

The woman who answered the door was obviously Maggie - short and moderately plump (though that could’ve been residual baby weight), with rosy cheeks and the McCoy dark hair, interspersed with a few premature strands of white at the temples. Her eyes had the same green tint, though with more gray and less hazel than Bones’ eyes held.

“Leo!” she cried, throwing her arms around his waist, catching him a little off guard. Jim saw the genuine smile bloom over his face as he returned his sister’s hug and couldn’t help but smile too.

“Damn, I’ve missed you, Mag,” Bones breathed, parting from her but holding her by her shoulders, looking at her beaming face. Bones turned to Jim, placing a neutral hand on his shoulder. “Maggie, I’d like you to meet Jim Kirk, he’s my…uh, well…Jim, my sister Maggie Austin, nee McCoy.”

Maggie’s eyebrows raised slightly, first in puzzlement, then in understanding, at Bones’ non-introduction of Jim, before she caught herself and remembered her manners. “So nice to meet you, Jim,” she cooed, giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “C’mon in, both of you, it’s too damn humid out there.”

“Mag,” Bones said quietly when they were just inside the foyer, “where’s Mom?”

Jim heard the nervous notes in Bones’ question and wondered if Maggie could too. “Upstairs, on a vid call with Aunt Beth,” Maggie answered neutrally, before pitching her voice to lower, more sympathetic tones. “It’s been two years, Leo; it’ll be okay.” Maggie held Bones’ eyes for a moment before seeming to remember Jim was there and smiling brightly. “Now, come on. Time to meet your nephew.”

Jim caught Bones around the wrist and tugged toward him, urging eye contact, which Bones gave. “You heard her,” Jim said softly. “It’ll be okay.”

Maggie led Bones and Jim down the hall to the family living room, where Maggie’s husband Paul sat on the sofa with his head tilted back, a cup of coffee in one hand and a sleeping baby in the other arm. “Look who the cat dragged in, Paul,” Maggie said teasingly, causing her husband to crack an eye open, then blink several times in rapid succession before breaking into a wide smile.

“Leo McCoy. Son of a bitch.”

Maggie blithely took her son from his father’s arms and covered his ears against his language.

Handshakes and hugs were passed around, followed by baby Noah. He seemed an uncommonly calm baby, though Jim supposed perhaps he didn’t have much to compare him to. Jim watched Bones’ face as he cradled Noah, stroking his cheek with the back of his index finger, and something soft and warm settled in Jim’s solar plexus at the sight. _He’s such a dad,_ Jim thought, and was immediately hit by a wave of sadness. _Joanna._ God, he must miss her something fierce. He’d heard them once on a vid call, months ago, and the love in Bones’ voice as he talked to his daughter was enough to melt Jim’s insides. Jim also distinctly recalled pouring a very maudlin Bones into bed that night.

Bones looked up from Noah to make eye contact with Jim, his eyes a little watery, and Jim watched as his smile dropped and his gaze fixed unblinkingly over Jim’s shoulder. Jim turned.

Eleanora McCoy cut an imposing silhouette in the doorway. She looked very little like her son; where Bones was tan and broad-shouldered, she was fair-skinned and willowy, with sharp gray eyes and impeccable salt and pepper hair. Jim was unsurprised; Bones had told him that he favored his father’s looks strongly.

Jim grew up under a mother who only saw her tragically deceased husband when she looked at her son. It wouldn’t have surprised him a bit to see the same kind of pain reflected in Bones’ mother’s eyes that he’d seen in his own mother’s.

What he did not expect was how very _cold_ Eleanora’s stare was as she looked at her son. In all the time he’d known Bones - and under all the different titles, from doctor-patient to friends to roommates to lovers - he’d never once seen Bones be cold. Even in anger, he was all fire, light, heat, color. But his mother’s icy glare sent prickles up his spine.

Bones passed little Noah off to Maggie’s arms, then stood, walking a few paces toward his mother. “‘Lo, Momma.”

For a few beats, Eleanora was silent. Then she spoke, her tone flat, her accent thicker than her son’s. “Just what do you think you’re doing here, Leonard?”

“Momma, I just - ”

“Did I not make myself plain two years ago when I told you to get out of my house and never come back, boy?”

Jim’s gut turned to ice.

“Momma, I invited him here,” Maggie interjected, pleading. “I wanted him to meet Noah. It’s been years, you two - ”

“Margaret, you go take care of your son,” Eleanora interrupted sharply, not taking her eyes off Bones. Maggie shut her mouth.

“My sister asked me here to meet my nephew,” Bones said, in a tone that Jim knew well; it meant he was using every ounce of restraint he had in him to keep his temper in check. “I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”

“No?” Eleanora scoffed. “Did she invite your flavor of the week, too, or could you just not lay off for a night?” She gestured back to Jim with a level of distaste that turned Jim’s stomach.

Bones’ voice lowered a dangerous octave. “You leave him out of this, Momma.”

“I ain’t your momma anymore. You get out of my house, Leonard. I don’t know you, and I damn sure won’t stand for you being around my grandchildren.” Eleanora paused significantly. “Either of them.”

 _“Momma!”_ Maggie scolded, her brow furrowed, her face scandalized.

Slowly, Bones turned, tapping Jim’s shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said hoarsely.

“Leo, wait, don’t - ” Maggie begged, handing Noah off to Paul.

“It’s all right, Mag,” Bones said, turning to her as he headed toward the door. “I’ll call you later, okay?” He kissed her cheek without making eye contact, then ushered Jim out the door, letting it shut with an audible _click_ behind him.

Jim watched Bones’ shoulders from behind. He was trying to keep his breathing even and measured, steepling his fingers in front of his face. “Bones,” Jim chanced, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Bones, let’s get out of here, okay?”

Bones passively let Jim wind an arm around his shoulders, walk him down the stairs and out to the car, where Bones stumbled under the weight of his own emotions, sagging into Jim’s arms as Bones fought sobs that threatened to eat him alive.

“Jim,” Bones said brokenly, “I…I need you to drive…”

“Of course,” Jim said, taking the keys from Bones’ pocket. “Of course.”

Bones pressed his forehead to Jim’s, clinging to his shirt as if it was the only thing grounding him to the earth. “Please just take me away from here.”

Jim’s heart shattered. “Okay, baby. Okay. I will.”

***

The sky had darkened considerably with clouds by the time they got back to their room. The drive back was utterly silent, Bones staring out the window in a silence that could’ve been interpreted as stony by someone who didn’t know him as well as Jim did. Or someone who hadn’t been there to see what had just happened.

“You hungry?” Jim asked, pressing his thumb to the keypad and allowing them entrance.

Bones shook his head. “Not really. You?”

Honestly, Jim wouldn’t object to a burger, but leaving Bones in his current state didn’t even vaguely appeal. “Nah, I’m okay.”

Jim watched as Bones crossed the room to the window, not even bothering to kick off his shoes, and heard the gentle _thunk_ as he dropped his head against the transparent aluminum. Jim poured out two fingers of bourbon, then another two, and wordlessly handed Bones his glass as he sipped from his own.

“Thanks, Jim,” he mumbled, brushing his fingers against Jim’s as he took the glass. The clouds had gotten heavier, drops starting to pitter-patter against the window. It somehow made his voice seem even rougher than usual.

“I told you that I hadn’t been with anybody since the divorce,” Bones started softly, swirling his Evan Williams aimlessly. “That…that wasn’t technically true. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jim said without pause. It honestly didn’t matter to him, though he hoped what came next would be the story of why Bones felt he had to conceal that fact. Jim studied Bones’ profile; he looked defeated, broken… _consumed_ by something.

“Did you know I moved back home after Joss kicked me to the curb?” Bones asked quietly. Jim shook his head. “Not like I needed another wound to my pride after what happened, but there you had it. Had nowhere else to go.” Bones took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “Momma was great. Dragged my ass out of bed to go to work, kept me fed…kept a lock on the damn liquor cabinet. It was only a couple months after Daddy died. Me bein’ such a mess gave her a project.”

Jim’s brow furrowed slightly. All this time, he’d been operating under the assumption that it’d been Bones’ role in giving his father a merciful death that fractured his relationship with his mother, but now that didn’t seem so likely. But if not that, then…?

“Then I got word from my chickenshit attorney that Joss was going for full custody of Jo.” Bones took an aggressive swig of whiskey before continuing. “Should’ve seen it coming. Damn woman’d do anything to fuck me over. Just didn’t think she’d use Jo to do it.”

“Bones…”

But Bones continued like he hadn’t even heard him. “I didn’t want to breathe anymore. I needed to do something - do _anything_ \- to get out of my own damn head. Knew there wasn’t enough alcohol in the state to get the job done, but I went to a bar anyway.” He polished off his whiskey and leaned his forehead into the windowpane again, eyes closed. “Wound up picking somebody up. Wound up taking that somebody home. Momma walked in on us and flipped her shit. Kicked me out and told me never to darken her doorstep again.”

 _Talk about overkill,_ Jim thought. He’d suffered a similar humiliation himself, once, at sixteen, and while it was not an experience he’d relish reliving, it didn’t so much as make the radar screen of events that could have - and did - compromise his relationship with his own mother. But it had demonstrably _annihilated_ the relationship between Bones and Eleanora. This made no sense.

“I…don’t get it. You were, what…twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? With a kid? And your marriage was already over but for signing on the dotted line? You weren’t doing anything wrong, Bones. Might’ve been embarrassing, getting caught with a woman, but - ”

“Not a woman, Jim.”

There was a long moment in which the only sound was that of rain hitting the window and Jim’s thoughts whirring as the puzzle pieces fell into heartbreaking place. _Oh, God. Oh, Bones._

Of all the infinite, unbelievably painful memories of his childhood and his relationship with his family of origin that Jim could pick from, one rare bright spot was that his sexuality was never an issue. He liked people without regard for what parts they had or what words they used to call themselves, he always had, and his family didn’t so much as blink about it. Even _Frank_ didn’t give him shit about the spinning compass that was his sexuality. People just…didn’t care about that kind of thing anymore.

“It’s…it’s the twenty-third century; I don’t…”

Bones’ laugh was low and pained as he interrupted Jim. “It might be the twenty-third century, but it’s still Georgia, darlin’.” Jim watched in profile as a tear streaked down Bones’ cheek and fell to the ground. “Joss was looking for whatever ammo she could to make sure she got custody. It didn’t look like a great case for her, because she’d cheated on me so many times, but my mother catching me blowing another man was all she needed. Momma told Joss, Joss told her lawyer, her lawyer told the judge, and now…” Bones stopped, a few more tears squeezing out of his eyes as he took a shaky breath, “now…I haven’t hugged my baby girl in…in almost two years…all because…because…”

Jim couldn’t restrain the impulse. He opened his arms and held onto Bones for dear life, unable to stop the tide of sorrow and confusion and _fucking rage_ he felt on Bones’ behalf. Words built in his throat, but this wasn’t a situation that could be alleviated with words, and so Jim allowed them to just burn a hole in his gut instead. Bones buried his face into the crook of Jim’s neck, his breath warm on Jim’s pulse point, and shook with sobs, wrapping his arms around Jim’s waist.

“March twenty-third?” Jim finally whispered.

Bones swallowed, then nodded. “March twenty-third. Two years ago. Second time in the space of a year a woman I loved tossed me out on my ass.”

“I’m sorry,” Jim whispered into Bones’ hair. “I’m so, so sorry, Bones. Oh, God.”

Bones nodded into Jim’s shoulder, clinging to him a little more tightly, taking a few moments to steady his breathing. “Maggie doesn’t know,” he said. “I mean, she knows I’m not just into women; she’s open-minded enough that I could tell her that without her losing her damn mind. But she doesn’t know what happened.” Bones sniffled, tightening his hold on Jim. “She thinks it’s got to do with Daddy, Momma not wantin’ me around.”

“I did too,” Jim confessed. “I just…assumed.”

Bones shook his head. “Momma knew what Daddy wanted before I did. She gave her blessing. No, this is about me…me havin’ sex with a man.”

Jim swallowed thickly as the final realizations crystallized. “That’s why,” he said sadly. “That’s why sex is so hard for you.”

A faint blush stained Bones’ tan cheeks as he closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, that’s why.”

“Bones, you could’ve told me this before. I would’ve understood.”

But Bones was already shaking his head. “This conversation’s buried under a layer of shame ten feet deep, darlin’. If you hadn’t come down here with me, I don’t think I’d’ve ever…”

Jim winced, then leaned in and kissed Bones’ mouth. “I’m glad I came. I’m glad I know. I just wish there was nothing to know.”

Bones sighed. “Believe me, so do I.”

***

The weather once they got back to San Francisco was really no better than it had been in Georgia: uncharacteristically gray and gloomy for a California summer. Bones was unsurprisingly solemn after what had happened in Marietta, and Jim was equally so for having borne witness to it. So Jim, in deference to Bones’ emotional state, let his boyfriend outline their path for now.

To Jim’s great relief, that path didn’t end in a bottle, nor in a pit of crippling depression. To Jim’s immense, crushing disappointment, though, it did result in Bones becoming far more pensive and quiet. All things considered, this was probably the best possible coping Jim could’ve hoped for, but it still broke his heart a little bit.

So Jim’s full-body shock response when Bones, completely unprompted, said, “I actually think I want _you_ to fuck _me_ ,” was entirely justified.

They were on the sofa after a full day of summer classes, half-watching/half-mocking a truly shitty holovid with a lot of explosions and a token hot alien. At Bones’ words, Jim dropped both his beer and the handful of chips he’d just stolen from the bag and didn’t seem to notice either.

“Goddammit, Jim!” Bones exclaimed, jumping up and scrounging around the kitchen for paper towels. By the time he got back, Jim was still sitting there, gaping at Bones.

“Uh,” Jim said eloquently, “excuse me?”

Bones rolled his eyes, then knelt down, sopping beer off the wood laminate floor. “Y’heard me the first time.”

“Are you…but… _why?_ I mean, that’s…I’m totally okay with…but _why?_ ”

Bones gave Jim a long look, then stood up, pitched out the paper towels, and returned to the couch, tossing his arm around Jim. “Have I gotta have a reason?”

“I just…I didn’t expect…” Jim looked down; his mouth had gone all dry; he needed a drink; where had all his beer gone?; oh, right.

“Ah, jeez. All right, let’s start over,” Bones interrupted Jim’s inner monologue, adopting an almost sarcastically patient tone of voice. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I think I would prefer to be the fuckee, rather than the fucker, at least the first time we fuck. Is that okay with you?”

Jim stared, then nodded slowly.

“Great,” Bones said, with the same smartass inflection.

“But…why?” Jim couldn’t help but ask again.

“Christ, Jim, I don’t have a reason,” Bones spat.

“Bullshit. I think you do have a reason, and I sure as shit wasn’t expecting this.” Jim gentled his voice. “C’mon. Talk to me.”

Bones shut his eyes, rubbed his forehead, then ran his fingers through his hair. “If I tell you, I expect absolutely no fucking mocking, got it?”

Jim nodded solemnly. “Got it.”

“It’s metaphorical.”

Bones was quiet for a moment. Jim shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

“Fuck, you’re just goddamn _determined_ to make this not easy on me, aren’t you?” Bones muttered sotto voce before raising his voice normally. “I’m…I’m opening up to you.” Bones flushed violently red, but continued. “You’re seein’ me about as vulnerable as I can get when we do stuff together, and then in Georgia, I was fucking _bleeding_ , a right mess, totally broken open…and you were there. And you’re still here. I opened up and I didn’t scare you off in the process.” Bones snorted lightly. “Please don’t tell me I have to explain the metaphor any further to you, genius.”

Jim cut him off by crushing his lips to Bones’, feeling them slide perfectly under his lips, warm, soft, faintly chapped, completely heavenly. _“I fucking love you,”_ Jim hissed, running his hands up and down the length of Bones’ spine. “You’re my favorite thing about being alive. And that you love me? That you choose to open up to me?” Jim ran out of words, because they didn’t exist in any of the languages he knew, and just kissed Bones again, firmly, pressing him down so they were horizontal on the couch, making out like teenagers.

“Hey,” Jim said, lifting his head, “is it safe for me to assume you’ve not been fucked before?”

“Yeah.” Bones seemed to be pushing the words through a dry throat.

“Have you done anything…there?” Jim asked, stroking a hand down Bones’ body, resting it on his hip and curling his fingers around his ass.

Jim watched Bones’ Adam’s apple bob as he tried to swallow. “Not really,” he answered hoarsely. “Wasn’t Joss' thing. Girl I was seeing in undergrad…once or twice. Nothing much.”

Jim nodded, not insignificantly dizzy. “You’re probably gonna need a lot of prep, then,” he said softly, squeezing the flesh at Bones’ hip and ass gently. “Is that something you wanna do now?”

The look in Bones’ eyes was electric. He nodded.

In spite of that electricity, Jim moved a little languidly, first in running back to his bedside table to get a bottle of lube, and then in stripping Bones from the waist down, tossing Bones’ cadet red pants into a wrinkly heap on the floor, running his hands up and down Bones’ thighs, and placing gentle, teasing kisses on his cock. Bones was moaning lightly, threading his fingers into Jim’s hair, his cock pulsing and weeping; but Jim knew that wasn’t enough. He needed Bones to be on a razor’s edge of pleasure before he started fingering him.

“Beautiful Bones,” Jim crooned, running his tongue over the entire surface of his boyfriend’s cock. “So beautiful. So fucking sexy. Love you so much.” He kissed the crease of Bones’ leg and earned an unhuman noise that made him grin. He kissed his way up Bones’ stomach, stopping at his chest to give little sucks and gentle bites to his nipples, before landing again on Bones’ mouth, kissing the breath out of him.

“Need you to trust me, Bones,” Jim murmured into his mouth. Bones nodded into another kiss. “Promise I’ll take care of you. Make this good for you. You just gotta trust me.”

“Trust you, Jim,” Bones mumbled brokenly between kisses. “Love you.”

Jim uncapped the lube with one hand and squeezed some onto his finger, keeping his face close to Bones’, in his field of vision. “Gonna touch you now. Just on the outside at first.”

Bones nodded. Jim made contact, and Bones’ grip in Jim’s hair tightened.

“It’s all right,” Jim murmured, “it’s all right, it’s just me. Just Jim.” He stroked back and forth, back and forth, letting Bones get used to the spread, the simple presence, first, letting his jangled nerves settle a little bit. Jim kissed him, once, twice, three times, feeling Bones’ posture get a little less stiff, a little less apprehensive. Bones closed his eyes, and Jim nuzzled his cheek in a gesture so tender it even made him go to pieces a little bit.

“Can I try to come inside now?”

Bones kept his eyes closed. He swallowed, took a couple of deep breaths, then nodded.

Jim’s fingertip made slow, easy circles on the tight ring of muscle. “Gonna need you to relax first,” he murmured. Bones shifted his body, obviously trying to relax, though without much success. Then Jim remembered something he’d read in a book once - he thinks it actually had to do with childbirth, of all fucking things, but it was worth a shot here. “Tell me you love me.”

Bones opened his eyes and looked at him. “Huh?”

“Tell me you love me. When you say ‘I love you,’ it’s supposed to relax some of the muscles in your body.”

“Jim, I do love you, but I dunno how accurate - ”

“Yeah, critique my medical know-how later, all right? Just try it. ‘I love you.’”

Bones made firm eye contact with Jim. “I love you.”

_Push._

_“Jesus fuck!”_

“Bones, _relax,”_ Jim murmured, kissing his mouth, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his earlobe, anything he could reach. “Relax. I know, it feels weird, but trust me. Am I hurting you?”

Bones was stiff as a board. “No, just… _fuck!”_

“Hey,” Jim said gently, “you are _way_ too tense. The more tense you are, the more uncomfortable you’re gonna be. Try to relax. Let that tension go. It’s just me. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m _tryin’_ , Jim, just - _Christ almighty.”_

“I know. I know, it’s strange. Just breathe.” Switching tactics, Jim smiled and laughed gently. “Let me remind you, Doctor McCoy, that as my primary care physician, if you break my goddamn finger in there, _you’re_ the one who’ll have to fix it.”

Bones looked incredulously at Jim, and then, to Jim’s immense delight, laughed. Jim could feel a massive wave of tension fade away inside Bones’ body, and it broadened his grin.

Feeling emboldened, Jim crooked his finger, and Bones nearly shot off the couch with a shout. “What the _fuck_ was that?”

Jim kissed behind Bones’ earlobe, smiling serenely. “I don't know, _Doctor_ , you tell me,” he said teasingly, feeling precome drizzle down onto his hand as he nudged the sensitive gland inside. “Poor Bones,” Jim murmured. “Never had your prostate played with before. So deprived.”

“Fuck - you - gonna - come - _fuck_ \- ”

And then he did, so hard his eyes rolled back in his head, with Jim holding on to him so he didn’t roll clear off the sofa.

When Bones came back to himself a few minutes later, still panting, he looked at Jim with wide, hungry, _open_ eyes. “Holy _shit_ , darlin’. I haven’t felt like this since I was thirteen and figurin’ out how much fun I could have by myself.”

Jim smiled, kissing Bones’ cheek. “Thirteen? Such a late bloomer.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not this first time; think we agreed to that earlier.”

***

_July_

 

Jim woke up to the warm, wet, glorious feeling of a mouth wrapped around his cock. For all his sexual experience, getting a wake-up blowjob was a new one on even him, and he loved to savor new experiences. Like the feel of still climbing out of deep unconsciousness only to be met with a broad, flat tongue licking a stripe up the underside of his cock, or feeling the prickle of stubble along his inner thighs, or lacing his hands into the short, messy hair of his bed partner, tugging gently, feeling his glans brush the back of his partner’s throat…

Feeling hands - strong, unbelievably capable, notoriously steady hands - gripping his thighs in a vice grip, trembling just slightly. 

All at once, the sleep wore off, Jim’s life came back to him, and his eyes snapped open. “Bones?”

Sure enough, there was that beautiful dark head, buried between his legs, breathing unsteadily against Jim’s pubic hair; there were his hands, clinging to Jim’s thighs with a bruising grip.

Shaking.

The nerve endings in Jim’s body were hopelessly confused, engaged in a brutal tug of war between superego and id, between _the love of your life is clearly scared shitless right now and you need to stop this_ and _shut the fuck up, this feels like heaven,_ but Jim would be _damned_ if he let the second voice win.

“Bones… _fuck_ …Bones, stop.”

Bones didn’t stop. He swirled his tongue around the tip of Jim’s cock expertly, latching around it and suckling it of its weeping precome. Jim felt dangerously close to orgasm. “Bones…hey…stop, come up here…please, hey, you don’t have to do this…”

And then Jim heard Bones make a noise he’d never in a million years have thought Bones was even capable of making. He whimpered. Like a tiny sob.

Jim was pretty sure one’s heart couldn’t physically break in situations like this, but he damn sure felt like someone had shattered his into a thousand pieces.

Jim moved his hips back, pulling his cock deliberately from Bones’ mouth (his id screeching expletives at him the entire time), and crouched down next to him. He was a mess. Pale and sweaty and shaking, no doubt full to the brim with raw, bleeding memories of all that happened the last time he’d sucked a man off.

“We talked about this,” Jim said lowly, gripping Bones’ shoulders. “More than once. We talked about how this would probably freak you out and we agreed to take it off the table for now.”

Bones winced, trying to collapse into Jim. “Jim…”

Jim wasn’t having any of it. Bones pushed himself. Bones catapulted _way_ over his comfort zone into the most triggering act he could possibly think of. After all this time, all this effort to move slowly and all this energy put into progressively uncoiling his anxiety. Dammit, Jim was _pissed,_ and even though part of him couldn’t figure out what right he even _had_ to be pissed, the larger part had control of his tongue. “This isn’t a goddamn pissing contest, Bones. We’re not being judged on whose balls are bigger or who's better at pushing their limits. We’re trying to figure out how to make this fucking relationship _work_ , and we can’t _do_ that when you go pole-vaulting over the lines we set up!”

Bones looked at Jim like Jim had slapped him. Jim instantly hated himself, but maintained angry eye contact anyway, because the more like a jackass he was acting, the more stubborn he got.

“Goddammit, Jim,” Bones intoned, shaking his head sadly. He walked into the bathroom, shut the door with a resounding _click_ , and Jim heard the shower running a few minutes later.

 _Okay, what the fuck was that?_ Jim’s rational brain chimed in. Running his fingers angrily through his hair, Jim grabbed a pair of semi-clean jeans out of the laundry and started looking for a shirt.

Enough of this secret-keeping bullshit. Jim needed someone to talk to.

***

“I fucked up.”

Christopher Pike stood in the doorway of his officer’s apartment, hair askew, in a t-shirt and sleep pants, with a bewildered look on his face that made Jim certain he was cataloguing and regretting every life choice that led him to pick Jim’s bloodied face up off that barroom floor in Riverside.

“Kirk. It’s…” Pike looked at his comm. “It’s 0930 hours. On a _Sunday.”_

“I fucked up,” Jim repeated. “I fucked up bad and I don’t know how to fix it and I think I’m going insane and I need to talk to someone and I don’t know who else to go to and…”

Jim babbled for a few seconds more, but Pike was already nodding exhaustedly and ushering Jim into the spacious apartment, punching the keypad to close the door again.

Jim sat in the closest chair to the door, burying his head in his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but Pike forestalled him with a wave of his hand. “Not another word until I’ve been caffeinated. That’s not Chris to Jim; that’s Captain to Cadet. Got it?”

“Aye, sir,” Jim croaked.

Pike sat and took one, two, three slow sips of coffee, eyes closed, as if having a spiritual experience. (Hell, maybe he was, what did Jim know?) Then he spoke.

“All right. Tell me how you fucked up, son.”

Jim practically vomited the story out, barely stopping for breath, keeping the more intimate details as general as possible and completely eliminating names and pronouns. When he stopped, breathless, Pike was staring at him, the deep furrow between his brows reminding Jim strikingly of Bones. Jim watched as Pike set his coffee cup down, closed his eyes, and massaged one temple, as if trying to alleviate a headache.

“All right, let me see if I’ve got this,” Pike said in a long-suffering tone. “You got woken up this morning by a blowjob from someone you tell me you love, and it pissed you off so much that you ran halfway across campus to bang on my door - without comming first; thanks for that, by the way - at 0930 hours on a Sunday?”

Well, it sounded absurd when Pike put it like that. “Do you at least see my point, though? About him pushing himself too hard?” _Shit. Pronoun._ But Pike didn’t bat an eye.

“Yeah, I do, Jim; but I also know this is way above my pay grade. Why the hell d’you think you and I are the only ones here right now?” He gestured around the apartment. “I don’t know how to make it work. I’ve tried. A couple of times. I’m not built for it. Some people are prime numbers, son. Not good at compartmentalizing enough to give of themselves. I’m one of them.” Pike took a sip of coffee, then leaned forward, closer to Jim. “Look, you’ve been trying to focus on keeping him not scared, right?” Jim nodded. “Did it ever occur to you that he _needs_ to be scared?”

Jim cocked his head to the side. “What?”

“You know, it might feel that way in the moment, but fear’s not a negative thing,” Pike clarified. “It keeps us from taking unnecessary risks. You, of course, eat unnecessary risks for breakfast - ” Jim scoffed “ - but those of us who have our heads screwed on straight actually _avoid_ them. But sometimes fear gets too big for us to handle and it bleeds over into areas of our lives it shouldn’t. And when that happens, it’s good to know how to _not_ listen to fear.”

Jim sat, lacing his fingers together. “You’re saying I’m…what, being overprotective?”

Pike shrugged. “If that’s the vernacular you prefer, sure. You’re keeping him from feeling something that might be uncomfortable, but that he might need to feel in order to get where he needs to go.”

Pike made his posture aggressively casual. It unsettled Jim, though he couldn’t figure out why.

“For example,” Pike said much too nonchalantly, “your pal McCoy.”

_Shit. **That’s** why._

“He told me the day I recruited him he was scared shitless of flying, right? It was pulling teeth trying to get him on the shuttle out of Iowa, let alone into standard orbit for a basic flight test. Spent most of the time puking, or shaking, or passing out, or trying to pretend I didn’t see the flask he kept nursing. And I sympathized with him, sure, but I also had enough faith in him to know he could move past it, no matter how uncomfortable it was. And, judging by his flight practicals, he did. But he damn sure wasn’t gonna get there by staying dirtside. He had to get up there and face his fear head on.”

Jim stared. Pike just shed a hell of a lot more light on the situation than he’d expected to garner from this conversation. “Yeah,” Jim said dumbly.

Pike nodded at Jim, sipping his coffee. “You gonna go apologize to this guy, then?”

“Yeah,” Jim repeated. “Yeah…yeah, I am.” He stood, walking toward the door, then turned. “Captain…Chris,” he chanced. “Thanks. Just…this meant a lot. Thanks.”

Pike smiled and nodded his acknowledgement. Jim turned to leave before being stopped by Pike’s voice again.

“Jim,” he said, his tone a little more gentle, “remember what I said about me? Prime numbers?” Jim nodded. “I’ve got a feeling McCoy’s one, too.” Jim’s heart seized up a little, but Pike continued without pause. “Just remember, they’re only divisible by themselves - _or_ by one.”

Pike’s eyes looked into Jim’s very, very intentionally.

“So be his one, and _don’t fuck it up.”_

***

Jim walked back into the apartment quietly. Bones sat on the sofa with wet hair, wearing a threadbare t-shirt and sleep pants of Jim’s. They were quiet for a few moments after Jim stepped inside, just looking at one another.

“I was a jackass,” Jim muttered.

“Little bit, Jim,” Bones affirmed.

“I didn’t get it,” Jim clarified. “I think I do now.”

Bones scoffed. “Shit, Jim, _I_ don’t even get it. I just wanted to do something for you.” Bones trailed his finger through a condensation ring that lingered on the coffee table. “You’ve been so great these last few months, about everything, makin’ sure I’m okay, makin’ sure I feel good…just wanted to make sure you felt good too.”

Jim’s heart cracked. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, moving across the common area in two long strides. Bones stood, and Jim wrapped him in his arms. “I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry, Christ, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Bones nodded, breathing Jim in. They parted enough to rest their foreheads against one another. Then, Bones smirked.

“So how’d I do?”

Jim snorted, then softened. “Well, death grip on my thighs aside, your technique was damn near perfect.”

“Yeah?” Bones brightened, then paused. “Wait - _near_ perfect?”

Jim rolled his eyes, leaning in to kiss him. “Curmudgeon.”

“Infant.”

***

_August_

 

“I want you.”

It was the last, hottest day of August. Jim had just finished his final exams for his summer courses and sat, sweaty and disgusting, in his underwear, nursing a cold beer and trying to melt into the couch. It was not his most attractive look.

“‘m sorry?”

“I want you,” Bones repeated, slowly this time. His eyes were flashing, but his gaze was steady.

Steady and _calm_. Which was pretty new.

“You’re…you mean…”

Bones crossed the room, tugged Jim up off the sofa, cupped his face in his hands, and kissed him soundly. “Take me to bed, Jim. Want you to fuck me. Now.”

Steady though his gaze and voice may have been, Jim noticed the telltale quiver in Bones’ hands. He held them, kissed them, and looked Bones in the eye. “Nervous or scared?”

Bones’ eyelids fluttered as he considered the question. “If I say ‘scared,’ will you refuse to fuck me?”

Jim swallowed, squeezing Bones’ hands, and shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “I…I don’t think I understood ‘scared’ all that well before. But I think I do now. So tell me how you feel, and tell me what you want.”

“I’m scared to death, Jim,” Bones admitted. “And I want you.” Kiss. “Now.” Kiss. “Inside me.”

 _“Christ.”_ Jim wrapped Bones in his arms and stumbled over to his own bed, blindly yanking the lube from the drawer of his nightstand, furiously tugging at Bones’ cadet reds. “Fucking _adore you,_ Bones. _Need_ you. Can’t _breathe_ without you.” Bones’ pants and underwear long since gone, and his red jacket having landed somewhere on the path between the common area and Jim’s bed, Jim now worked on peeling off Bones’ black undershirt _(which holy god he looks so painfully sexy in can’t tell if he’s sexier in or out of it)_ and planting trails of slow, wet kisses from Bones’ clavicle down to his nipples, over his belly, teasing his navel, then making his way back up to Bones’ mouth. He tasted of salty sweat, of antiseptic hospital, of citrusy shower gel, and of _Bones,_ and Jim couldn’t get enough.

“Love you, darlin’,” Bones murmured, wrapping _one two three four_ fingers around Jim’s cock and stroking it firmly, from root to tip, with surgical precision, swirling his thumb around the head and making Jim’s world explode in a kaleidoscope of colors. “Wanna show you how much. Wanna make you feel good.”

“ _Fuck,_ Bones, you keep that up and this’ll end real quick,” Jim groaned, dancing on the edge of a cliff. He placed his hands on Bones’ ass, squeezing gently, not opening his cheeks, just putting pressure on them. “Open for me, baby. Gotta get you ready for this.”

_And there’s the scared._

Bones rolled onto his back, hoisting his legs back and opening himself up, looking unbelievably vulnerable, and _I love him love him love him._ “Relax,” Jim encouraged, stroking Bones’ face. “Relax. I gotcha. This is nothing new. You’re a seasoned pro at this part by now.”

“The fuck you callin’ _seasoned?”_

Jim laughed, shaking his head as he squirted some lube onto his fingers. “What can I say, I’ve got a thing for _older men_ ,” he intoned, fingers grazing the tight pucker as he kissed Bones’ knee.

“Infant,” Bones mumbled.

“Curmudgeon,” Jim shot back. He massaged the opening gently, feeling tension start to ease, then looked at Bones with an unspoken question in his eyes, to which Bones nodded. Jim pressed his fingertip in, and Bones, as he had now developed the habit of doing, clenched and arched his back.

“Easy,” Jim gentled, putting a comforting hand on Bones’ belly, “easy. Remember what we talked about. Push when I push.” Bones nodded hard, inhaling deeply, then pursing his lips and breathing out, like he was blowing out a candle. “There you go,” Jim encouraged, teasing another finger outside, pressing on the skin, testing…then pressing in.

“Fucking _hell_ , Jim.” There it was. The whimper.

Jim swallowed back his instinctual reaction. “Too much? Need a break?”

Bones shook his head. “No, no, just _burns_ , darlin’.”

Jim reached up and cupped Bones’ face in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “It’s ‘cause you’re stretching,” Jim said softly, “it’ll get better.”

“I know, I know, just - _damn_.”

“Well, maybe this’ll help.” Jim very gently nudged Bones’ prostate, and Bones nearly jumped off the bed in response.

 _“Shitshitshit,”_ Bones babbled, desperately reaching for Jim, grabbing onto his forearm, the only part of him he could reach as he knelt between Bones’ legs. Jim was shamelessly rutting against the bed, desperate for friction on his own cock, but not willing to let his hands leave Bones.

“Think you like it when I touch you there,” Jim murmured playfully, kissing Bones’ inner thigh, licking a stripe up to his balls, where he very gently suckled one, then the other. Bones’ cock was pouring precome.

“Gonna give you one more,” Jim whispered, keeping that calming hand on Bones’ abdomen. “Try to relax for me.” Pressing a third finger into the pink, stretched opening made Bones whine, first with discomfort, then with mind-numbing pleasure, especially when Jim licked a stripe up the length of Bones’ cock, watching the precome flow freely when Jim’s fingertips would tap Bones’ prostate.

“God _dammit_ , Jim, need you, need you _now_ , please, _please_ ,” Bones begged, fisting his hands in Jim’s hair, his fingernails scratching at Jim’s scalp in the _most_ distracting way. Jim looked down at his hand; Bones was probably as prepped as he was going to get. Pushing himself up, Jim crawled on top of Bones, held his head in his hands, and kissed him, slow and deep.

“I fucking love you, you know.”

“Love you too,” Bones breathed. “Do it, _please_ …beggin’ you…”

Jim shifted, aligning himself into position, then began to push inside, keeping his eyes on Bones the entire time, as his shaky hands clutched at Jim’s shoulders, as his breath came in gasps that were first pained, then curious, then disbelieving.

“Jesus _Christ_ you’re big,” Bones muttered.

“Not big,” Jim huffed, “you’re just fucking _tight.”_

“Don’t…” Bones breathed, then stopped to moan, “…don’t pick a fight while you’re fuckin’ me, darlin’.”

Jim exhaled hard, thought processes totally hijacked by a thick haze of _jesuschristfeelssofuckinggood_ pleasure. “Cur- _fucking_ -mudgeon,” he mumbled, gripping Bones’ hip in one hand, stroking Bones’ cock with the other. “How’s that feel, baby? You okay?”

“Okay?” Bones huffed out a laugh. “I’m wondering how the hell I lived nearly _thirty fucking years_ without this.”

Jim exhaled delightedly, pressing his lips into Bones’, rocking his hips at the angle he knew his boyfriend needed. “Only gets better from here, baby.”

“Jim,” Bones exhaled, his breath stuttering, “Jim - gonna - come - _shit - ”_

“Do it,” Jim urged. “Come for me. Let it go.”

That was all it took. Bones came on a keening cry, spurting white stripes up nearly to his neck, Jim continuing to thrust steadily and pump Bones’ cock until he began to climb down and squirmed with hypersensitivity. Jim’s orgasm was just a heartbeat behind.

“Kiss me,” Jim begged, leaning close to Bones, wanting to touch that fragile, precious, perfect feeling he’d started to catalogue months earlier, right at the moment he came. Bones obliged, and Jim groaned into his mouth, spilling inside him, gripping Bones’ hip for dear life.

***

“Talked to Maggie today, after I was done at the clinic.”

Jim crinkled his brow. “Well, I think bringing up your sister sufficiently spoiled the afterglow,” he said dryly. Bones smacked his shoulder. “How’s she doing?”

“Just fine. Noah’s growing like a weed. She says hi to you, by the way.”

Jim smiled. “That’s sweet.”

Bones paused. “We, uh, had a talk. About Momma. About…what happened.”

That was unexpected. “What’d she say?”

Bones shrugged. “What’s to say, really? Momma's wrong, Mag loves me just as I am, old Southern values, blah, blah, blah.” A soft smile started to creep over Bones’ face. “She did have one interesting insight, though.”

“Oh?”

“Turns out the judge in my custody hearing got forced off the bench. Somethin’ about personal opinions interfering with his ability to be objective. Appears I’m not the only one whose gate swings a way he doesn’t like that appeared before him. Other people just had the balls to file complaints. Enough people did to get him reviewed and tossed.”

“Good riddance,” Jim intoned darkly, fantasizing for a half a second about meeting this judge in a dark alley with a phaser rifle. It was a brief fantasy, but Jim was rather attached to it.

“Paul reckons I could file for a new hearing on that basis,” Bones said, his smile growing. “There’s no guarantee, but with that asshole off the bench…I’ve got a decent chance at getting visitation rights.”

Jim’s face cracked into a massive smile. “Bones, you’ve gotta do it!”

Bones nodded. “I’m gonna. Paul can’t represent me ‘cause he’s family, but he knows a guy who knows a gal who’ll do it. She’s supposed to comm me on Monday.”

Jim kissed Bones soundly, delighted, but Bones looked a little apprehensive. “What?” Jim asked.

“I’ll have to go back to Georgia for a hearing,” Bones said. “If I know Joss, she’ll have her lawyer digging up all the same old dirt on me…probably make Momma testify. Gotta hear more of the same old shit. Man, I’m tired of hearing it, too.” Bones played with Jim’s fingers for a moment, then looked Jim in the eye. “‘m scared, Jim. Scared of going through that again.”

“But you’re doing it anyway.” It wasn’t a question, but Bones nodded anyway.

Jim leaned in to kiss Bones on the mouth. “Then let’s be scared together, shall we?”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a labor of love of unreal proportions for me. I've tried to write it countless times, in three fandoms, over a matter of years. I'd never gotten farther than a couple hundred words before I scrapped the whole thing. Now it's done, and published, and I kind of can't believe it.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading. I look forward to your feedback.
> 
> Title taken from the Del Amitri song of the same name. The song itself relates only if you squint hard enough, but I thought the title was perfect.


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